Disappear
by KNO
Summary: Christopher Maloney's point of view of how his best friend died. Rated T for language. Contains spoilers!
1. The Fall

_So, I finished Airhead by Meg Cabot today and I'm very interested in Christopher's perspective of what happened to Em._

_So this is a new project. :D_

_If you haven't read the book, please do. It's fantastic._

**Disclaimer:** Her Royal Highness, Meg Cabot, owns this.

* * *

Disappear.

_One._

"Em! Wait!" I said, reaching out a hand to stop her as she ran towards Frida.

I know she didn't hear me. She was only concerned for Frida.

Em had seen what I had. The plasma TV (supposedly screwed into the ceiling) was about to fall down due to the E.L.F. guy who'd shot the thing with a paintball gun. And it was about to land directly on where Frida was standing, asking for an autograph.

"Frida! Move!" shouted Em.

"Em! Stop!" I yelled out.

If she did what she was going to do. . .

Em pushed Frida out of the way the second the TV broke from its wires.

I could hear blood rushing in my ears, blocking out sound.

What I did hear was when that TV landed on Em, crushing her.

I heard the snaps of several bones.

_Damn._

I ran over to Em, looking at her.

Her eyes were closed.

"Em!" gasped Frida, realizing what had just happened.

Her hands were shaking.

"Nikki!" exclaimed a few voices a few feet away.

The supermodel had collapsed and a few of her friends were fanning her. She must've blacked out.

I turned back to Em.

Frida was cradling her head, the only place that wasn't crushed by the TV.

I looked around for a medic.

"Hey!" I called out to one hurrying near, gesturing to my best friend. "We need help!!"

He nodded and spoke into a radio, saying something about a stretcher.

Wonderful. Em had to go to the hospital. But I guess an injury like this was kind of inevitable for hospital shipment.

I looked back to Frida. She was crying.

"She'll be fine," I told her, not really sure myself.

Frida nodded absently.

"Should—should I call my mom and dad?" she asked me.

I looked at Em again. She wasn't moving.

"Yeah. Call them. I can stay with Em."

She nodded and stood, grasping around for her phone shakily.

Em looked exhausted. We shouldn't have stayed up so late last night playing _Journeyquest_.

* * *

The medic finally reached us and looked Em over.

"Are you her brother?" he asked me.

"No. Her best friend. Her sister's over there," I pointed to Frida, talking into her phone.

"What's her name?" asked the medic, referring to Frida.

"Frida Watts."

The medic nodded orderly and stood to talk to Frida.

Another medic appeared to assess Nikki Howard.

Honestly, I wasn't very concerned. Nikki Howard was just some stupid supermodel who could care less about normal people.

* * *

The stretcher came and they loaded Em up on it after they'd figured out how to get the TV off of her.

She was bleeding.

I swallowed.

Maybe Em wouldn't be as okay as I thought.

The medics shepherded Em away, quickly carrying her to the awaiting ambulance just visible outside the double doors of the Megastore. Frida went with the first medic.

She looked back at me, distracted.

"We'll call after we know what's going on," she assured tearily.

I nodded.

I looked around the Stark Megastore, at a loss to know what I should do with myself.

* * *

_Please review if you read._


	2. The News

_Wow! I can't believe the response to this has been so quick! Thanks so much to all of you!_

Carlough: _Aw, thank you so much!_

Iskttlz: _Wow. That's some dedication, reading it twice. ;) Thanks!_

ForeverEvil-AlwaysAngel: _I know, right! I can't wait til May when it comes out!! Yeah . . . about the length. I'm notorious for giving really short chapters in some of my Fics. I don't mean to do it, but it has to flow with the story I imagined. I hope there'll be longer chapters soon but I can't make any promises. Please post it!! I'll wanna read it! :D_

josie1901: _Yes, that's what I plan. :)_

Twiliter: _Um. . . please don't shoot me? That'd be utterly painful. Aaahh. ;)_

snowareangeltears-i taggd here: _Thank you very much!_

**Disclaimer:** I hope I'm not the only one excited for the last Princess Diaries book tomorrow! :D And Meg Cabot owns that too. . . Darn it.

* * *

Two.

I finally decided to go home to wait for the Watts' call about Em.

When I trudged into the apartment, Dad was beginning to cook dinner.

I entered the kitchen, but didn't know how to explain what had happened.

Dad glanced at me, noting my confused expression.

"What's wrong?" he asked straightforwardly.

I breathed out heavily, lowering myself into a dining room chair.

"Em . . . Em kind of got in an accident today."

Dad flicked his gaze to me.

"What kind of accident?" he asked, tone sharp.

"Well, some guy with E.L.F. shot one of those plasma screens . . . and Nikki Howard was there. Frida was asking for an autograph and she was right under where the plasma TV was about to fall; the wires had come loose. And Em pushed Frida out of the way . . . and it . . . it landed on her. They took her to the hospital. . ."

"Let's go," said Dad, already grabbing his coat.

"Frida said they would call. . ." I trailed off.

Dad looked me in the eye.

"If it's serious, they won't be calling."

I sighed and stood, following him out the door.

* * *

We figured that the first hospital they'd take Em to was Manhattan General Hospital, the closest to the Stark Megastore.

"Excuse me!" called my dad to the front receptionist.

I almost shook my head in embarrassment.

But then I remembered why I was there in the first place.

"Yes?" replied the receptionist, not looking up from the magazine she was skimming.

"I'm looking for Emerson Watts," I interceded, staring at her.

She looked up, surprised by my intense tone.

Immediately, she scanned a sign in sheet.

"No, no Emerson Watts," she informed.

My dad looked at me, an unsaid apology in his eyes.

He clapped a hand on my shoulder and we turned to leave.

We scoured every other hospital in Manhattan, but with no more luck than the first.

I also tried Em's cell phone, but no one picked up.

Dad might've been right; it was serious.

* * *

We returned home and ate dinner quietly.

I didn't really have anything to say.

I kept running what had happened that day through my head.

The E.L.F. guy shooting the TV, the wires coming loose, Em pushing Frida out of the way, and then . . . Em getting crushed.

That was the worst part.

Em getting crushed.

I hoped she was fine. Maybe a few broken bones in the least. Nothing surgery couldn't fix.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

* * *

I slept restfully that night, not even attempting to play _Journeyquest_.

It wasn't fun without Em.

* * *

Dad woke me up the next morning, holding the phone out.

I wiped some of the sleep from my eyes and said a groggy, "Hello?"

"Christopher?" said Mrs. Watts, sounding solemn.

"Hi. I went to Manhattan General to look for Em but they said she wasn't there? Is she okay? What's wrong?"

"Christopher. . ."

My brow furrowed.

Something wasn't right.

"What's wrong with Em, Mrs. Watts?" I asked again.

"Christopher," said Mrs. Watts, summoning courage. "Em . . . Em died when that TV hit her. The doctors—"

I dropped the phone in shock.

I could hear Mrs. Watts talking, explaining the details but I couldn't make out the words.

I rose from my bed and found my dad in the living room, reading the paper.

"Christopher?" he asked, noting my expression.

He stood, confused.

I hugged him really hard, not ready for words yet.

Dad got the gist, understanding.

He hugged me harder, trying to make it better.

But he couldn't.

No one could fix this.

Not anymore.

Because Em, my best friend, was dead.

And everyone knows you can't bring people back from the dead.

* * *

_Yeah._

_The ending made me sad, but I'm pleased enough with it._

_Please review._


	3. The Barrier

_Frankly, I'm really surprised by all the response to this. Quick response._

_It just really surprised me, but I'm really grateful for all the reviews, alerts, and faves. So a big thank you to each and every one of you!_

_I apologize for the sort of delay with this too. I had finals and a tiny bit of writer's block, so that set me back a little._

_This is also kind of short. Sorry._

caligirl0209: _Yes, she's quite conceited. Well, until Em takes over her body. Haha. :)_

technochicken: _Thank you so much!_

Twiliter: _Yes. I hated writing this chapter. :( Made me sad. Haha. Thank you. I kind of value my life. ;D_

josie1901: _Thank you. I think it helps me to get to know my reviewers better and for them to get to know me some. It's more personable. :) Thank you._

nao seven: _Thank you! I will and I have. ;D_

ForeverEvil-AlwaysAngel: _Powerful, huh? Interesting. . . :D Thanks!_

brigee-chan: _Yes, very sad. Haha. Thanks. :)_

EllieMalfoy: _Thank you! But it saddens me there are only four freaking stories in the Airhead section. Go write something! I wanna read other people's stuff! :D Um, I take it you're from the US? It'll be coming out in May, this year. If you're from the UK, you'll have to wait til June. :) Yes, PDX came out Jan. 6th. I'm already halfway through, and it's really good! Go get it! Thanks. :D_

Scratch my wolf ear: _Maybe he's more devastated in this chapter? I tried to make him appear really upset, so maybe it's alright? :) Jeez. I hate that too. I hate lending people my books now because I never see them again. . . I need to get them back. . . . Hm. :D Yes, I think there are three. Amazon already has the cover to book 2. It's neat looking. :D Yes. She's the queen of awesomeness._

E.I.W.: _Thank you, dear! By the way, I saw your name in the Airhead section, and I'll be reading those soon from you. :D_

Carlough: _Yep. I'm just trying to plan out how the funeral's going to work now. :O_

jayd-n33: _Masterpiece? Wow. Hold on, now. :O As flattered as I am, I'm no brilliant writer. The brilliant writer is Meg Cabot. She's amazing. But thank you. :D_

Lillymay123: _Yes, there's more. I just don't know how much more. I'm not sure if I'll finish Disappear and have a sequel once I read Being Nikki or not. What do you think?_

SummerSis: _Thanks, dear. Yes. There will be more. :)_

JJ-The Shadow Duelist: _You made it just in time! :D I was doing all of the replies when I got your review. ;D Yes, she's one of my favorites too. I've read Avalon High, though not the sequels because I wasn't too excited about the Manga style, even though I like Manga. I've read almost every Meg Cabot book known to man, not counting the 1-800 series and her adult books. :) But thanks anyway. What other authors do you enjoy?_

_Whoo. Now that that's done. :D_

_Thanks again to all of you!_

_As another side note, I must warn you that this has some strong language in this chapter. I had to get across Chris's anger, and that was the way for me to do it. So, there, you've been warned._

**Disclaimer:** Mrs. Cabot the Awesome owns this.

**

* * *

**

**Song:** The Deepest Blues Are Black - Foo Fighters.

* * *

Three.

Eventually, Dad let me go to go call back Mrs. Watts.

I just sat down on the couch, still stunned.

How could Em be dead? She—she didn't even get hurt that bad . . . well, other than that TV crushing her.

She should be in a coma, at the least! Not . . . not dead.

I was only trying to justify the inevitable fact that Em was dead. It would keep my mind busy, distracted.

Dad came back in the room a few minutes later and sat across from me.

"I know you don't want to hear this, but . . . Em is dead. The television that fell on her crushed some of her vital organs. . . The funeral will be in a few days."

I cradled my head in my hands.

It felt like years had passed.

Dad was saying things, but I couldn't hear him.

It was like that time I went to the beach when I was younger, and I had held a conch up to my ear to hear the ocean.(1) Except this time, it was blocking out all sound.

A barrier.

* * *

I didn't want to go to school the next day, but I did anyway.

No surprises, Frida nor Em was there.

_Because Em is dead, idiot!_ my head told me.

I ignored him.

In Public Speaking that morning, they had an announcement.

"Unfortunately, students, we have had a loss amongst our numbers. Emerson Watts regrettably died Saturday."

That was interesting. It sounded like the principal.

Since when did they care?

The principal continued talking, saying stuff about the memorial service at school and then the funeral a few days from now.

Whitney Robertson started speaking as the Intercom switched off.

"I for one am glad she's gone. We don't need freaks like her around her anymore."

I bit my tongue to control my temper.

But she kept talking.

A second later, I heard myself standing and walked the short distance to Whitney's desk.

"Shut your fucking mouth," I warned her.

Whitney seemed startled but smiled, realizing who I was.

"What's wrong, Christopher? You upset that your loser friend croaked?"

I swallowed and before I knew it, my fist had hit her square in the mouth.

"Christopher!" yelled out Mr. Greer.

I was already getting my stuff and leaving.

I slammed the door behind me.

I hated this school and I hated Whitney Robertson.

* * *

I skipped going to the principal's office.

I just went home instead.

Dad was at work, but he called around noon.

"You hit somebody?" he inquired, incredulous.

"Yeah," I admitted blankly.

I heard him sigh.

"Look, Christopher, you can't do that just because. . ." he trailed off as someone spoke to him.

I waited patiently, already knowing what he was going to say next.

"Look, son, can we talk about this when I get home? I have to go take care of something."

"Sure," I replied. "Bye."

"Bye."

I hung up first.

* * *

Thinking about it now, I probably shouldn't have hit her.

But what else was I supposed to do?

Just let her continue on talking about Em as if she'd never existed?

Bullshit.

I wouldn't sacrifice my friendship with Em just so Whitney Robertson and all the rest of the Walking Dead could say what they wanted about her.

She may be dead, but she wasn't some thing that had just existed.

She was my best friend.

_Was_, my head reminded me. _She's not here anymore. So stop wishing and thinking that she's going to come back._

I hung my head in confusion.

I didn't want to believe that Em was dead but . . . what other choice did I have?

_Exactly_, my head interceded again. _Em is gone and you're gonna have to accept it sooner or later._

I sniffed, trying to control the tears that had sprang in my eyes.

They ignored my protests and slipped out.

I walked into my room, locating all the _Journeyquest_ stuff. I found an empty box in the closet and packed it all up. The posters, the movie (that sucked), everything.

I couldn't get rid of my account on the game, but I could steer clear of it on the Internet.(2)

I looked around my room, which now looked bare.

Yes. This was right.

* * *

(1) I'm not sure if that shell is a conch. But . . . just imagine it is. :D

(2) I doubt this too, but just let it be.

_So, I hope this was okay. :D_

_Please review._


	4. The Loss of Control

_So, I'm really sorry this is so . . . late (?) and short. I've been having some bad writer's block with this Fic and I've also been sick so sorry it hasn't gotten up sooner._

_Thanks again for all the reviews, alerts, and faves!_

josie1901: _Oh, no! I like it when people ask me that kind of stuff! I get it all the time in other Fics of mine. ;D Um, honestly, I'm not too sure. I'm not even sure if Chris HAD feelings for Em. . . Well, at least before she died. I think until I read _Being Nikki _I won't be too sure on how to play it. So I might just ignore it for now. :) Haha, thank you so much!_

jayd-n33: _Thanks!_

SummerSis: _Thank you!_

E.I.W.: _Yes, I try to be as canon/realistic as possible. Thanks! :D_

Frost Merry Darkness Luver: _That's an interesting penname you've got there! ;D Aw, thank you!_

Twiliter: _Yes. She needs to just die already. ;D Uh. . . . I'm scared? :O_

Scratch my wolf ear: _Still? Haha. . . not to sound arrogant, but were you expecting it to get worse as it went? ;D Haha. Just kidding. :) Agh. I hate that. . . when people have no time. :( My best friend is a great example. It's impossible to make plans. :'( Anywho, ew. . . Twilight. :P . . . (prepares to die by fangirls). . . . ._

EllieMalfoy: _You live in Australia?!?!?!?!? Omigah!!!!!!!!!!!! THAT'S SO COOL!!!!! (gushes that she has a reader in Australia) That's neato. Oh, the Internet is amazing. ;D Okay, I did a little research for you, and_ Being Nikki _should come out in May for y'all too. As for PDX, that was really hard to find. If you have a_ Collins Booksellers_ near you, it got there in January. So . . . I guess it just depends on where you live. But you can also get it shipped, so just go to_ collinsbooks _dot_ com _dot_ au _and find_ Princess Diaries: Ten Out of Ten_. That's okay. Not all of us can be writers. Some of us have to take up the important role as readers (I'm this a lot more often than you think). :D_

Carlough: _Thank you! I was really unsure about the punch. . . but I think it came through all right. :D_

nao seven: _Thank you! Well, you're in luck. Here it is. ;D_

rcknrll: _Haha. "pain pain pain"? Reminds me of Harry Potter Puppet Pals. "Angst, angst, angst." :D Yes. He's not very nice, is he? ;D Denial is sometimes very useful. You don't have to type really really really really long paragraphs. It's kind of like paraphrasing. Ha. Sort of. ;)_

just a little thing for emmett: _Good thing you brought that up. . . 'Cause I don't know how that's going to work yet. :P Yes, she's making a sequel. A trilogy, if I'm not mistaken. ;D_

Pippa Spark: _Thank you! By the way. . . your penname reminds me of _A Great and Terrible Beauty _by_ Libba Bray_. Have you read it, by chance?_

_Whew. Typing all these responses exhausts me. But I still like doing them. :D_

**Disclaimer:** I love Meg Cabot. She created this.

* * *

**Songs:** So Far Away - Crossfade and Breathe Into Me - Red.

* * *

Four.

Dad was angry when he got home that afternoon.

"Not only did you punch someone, you punched a girl, Christopher! I thought I raised you better than that!" he exclaimed.

"She deserved it," I murmured to the ground.

Dad huffed out, hands on his hips. That signaled he really was angry.

"I don't care if she deserved it or not," he finally said, winding down. "You realize her parents could sue? And I don't have the money for that!"

I sighed but rolled my eyes.

"They won't sue. Whitney's too embarrassed to go off on something like this."

"That may be so, but you can't do this anymore. Em is dead. You're going to have to get over this."

I sent him a look, warning him to stop.

Dad deciphered my expression for a few minutes before finally retorting, "You need to get a haircut before the funeral."

For a moment, I was stunned.

I'd had this long hair for years, _years_, in protest against my Dad's military lifestyle. Many, _many_, times he'd demanded I cut it, but I'd resisted.

But then I understood.

It was respectful to Em's memory.

I was conflicted though.

Em had long supported my hair and refusal to get it cut. If she were still . . . alive she would feel the same way. Or, at least I think she would.

_But Em is gone. What's the point?_

Eventually, I nodded a yes to the haircut.

My dad clapped me on the shoulder, understanding the sacrifice this was.

A sacrifice, essentially, I was making for her.

* * *

Surprisingly, the school didn't suspend me for however many days. I just got detention for the rest of the week.

My dad was pleased with this, glad that my anger hadn't gotten me into consequences that were deemed undesirable.

Whitney Robertson kept her mouth shut about me punching her. I guess her pride in herself was too much to have some loser interrupt it.

When I returned to school the next day, the swelling had already been sucked out of her mouth. Ha. Liposuction.

I had put myself on destroy-and-conquer radar now, so she targeted me even more so.

But I ignored her.

* * *

Em's funeral was in two days and Dad was taking me to cut my hair this afternoon.

It's funny how someone in your life can die, and no one even care.

Life just keeps going with the flow. . . and no one notices.

You only mind when it's brought to your attention. Your mom dies. Your grandma. Your best friend. . .

_Stop! Stop thinking!!_, my head warned me. _If you keep thinking about this, you're going to go insane! So stop!_

I breathed out, trying to control my head.

It started to ache.

It's funny when you lose control. Everything collapses.

* * *

"Christopher?" said my English teacher.

Her voice sounded muted.

I jerked my head up from staring at my desk.

"Are you alright? I asked you a question," she informed, concern etched into the laugh lines of her face.

I blinked. What had she said? Was she even talking to me? I blinked again.

"Can I go to the bathroom?" I asked, attempting to avoid this situation altogether.

She nodded, still looking concerned, and handed me the pass.

I took it loosely and walked out of the classroom.

I considered skipping again but eventually decided on actually going to the bathroom to get myself together.

I reached the bathroom and found no one in there. Good.

I stared at my expression in one of the dirty mirrors and fingered my long hair absently.

It would be gone by four.

I grimaced in mild disappointment before washing my hands.

They weren't soiled. But I felt filthy.

* * *

_Ah, symbolism. Sometimes it hates me, sometimes we're alliances._

_That's pretty sad, isn't it?_

_Next chapter: Chris gets his haircut and Em's funeral takes place._

_Please review._

_:)_


	5. The Haircut

_So, I apologize immensely for the no updating period. Very sorry. :( I had some really bad writer's block that blanketed pretty much everything I was working on so when I finally got it back, there were a few other things I wanted to work on that trumped this. But I'm back. :)_

Jen: _Well. . . he's fictional so I don't think he'd be able to hear you. ;) But I think by the end of the first book he's figured some of it out. :D_

josie1901: _Aw, thank you! P.S: I'll get to that next chapter of yours soon. :)_

FMDL: _Uh. . . well, I think he's going to actually notice she's there her first day of school in Public Speaking. :)_

Flapjackpancake: _Wow. I'm not sure either. :/_

Emmett's Best Girl: _Um, yes. In the U.S. it comes out on May 5._

Rck.: _Aw, thanks so much! :D Uh. . . I'm not sure. I'm positive that I'm not going to make him cry at the funeral though. It's just too much excess. :) I think I've decided to end this story at the exact place where the first book ended and then, MAYBE do a sequel. If I write a sequel, it just depends on how much POV Meg Cabot writes for Chris in Being Nikki. So, I'll just have to see. Me too!!! All of my books are coming out in May, so I can barely wait!_

E.I.W.: _I'm sorry. :( By runaway? Huh?_

Carlough: _Muchos gracias, estimado._

readtoday: _Yeah, I really debated with myself on that point. Dad vs. Commander. I wasn't really sure, but I just decided for him to call him Dad. I guess to establish they have a bond? I don't know. You cried? Omigosh! No! I hate making people sad; don't cry! :( No, the second one hasn't come out yet. Calm down. :)_

alicecullenrocksforever: _Aw, thank you. I wish I had as much faith in what I write like other people do. ;)_

_Thanks for 50 reviews!!!! :D Much appreciated._

**Disclaimer:** Mrs. Meg Cabot owns this.

* * *

Five.

Dad picked me up after school, smiling a little.

"So!" he boisterously greeted. "How was school?"

"Terrible," I responded, intending to make him forget his cheerfulness.

It was selfish, I knew. But the only thing that made me feel better was to spread my bad mood around.(1)

Dad's smile faltered into a scowl.

"Well, maybe your mood will change when you get that haircut."

"I doubt it," I challenged tiredly.

It was a dangerous thing to do to the Commander, but I ignored the mounting tension.

* * *

He took me to his barber, an efficient man of fifty with gray hair and a mustache.

He hugged me when we came in, I guess in shock and surprise. I did not return the hug.

He shook Dad's hand as I made myself comfortable in an unoccupied chair in front of the mirror.

I wanted to see the show.

Maybe it would be worth it. I wasn't sure.

"So, Christopher, what would you like done today?" the barber asked.

His accent left traces of Italian immigrant.

I didn't say anything; I didn't have any certain style I wanted.

Just short. And non-alien looking.

The barber stared at me in the mirror once my hair was slick with water and all in his sausage-like hands.

"Ready?" he asked benignly.

I nodded once and the hair fell in a big wad to the ground.

I closed my eyes, trying to feel something, anything.

All I felt was weight added.

When the barber got done, my hair looked just like every other Walking Dead member at my school.

Great. Now I was a definite target.

Damn.

My Dad was pleased with it, however. He kept ruffling it under his hand and staring at the completed project.

I wished I could just go live under a rock for the next eight years.

* * *

The next day at school was terrible.

Everyone kept pointing and laughing and asking and yelling and screaming and hooting and just wouldn't shut their fat big mouthsIwishtheycouldalljustgodothemselvesanddoeveryoneafavor.

_Breathe, Chris. Jeez._

I obeyed and sucked in some air.

Better.

Whitney laughed straight in my face when I had first arrived at first period. I clenched my fist and pushed past her into my seat.

I silently begged for someone to kill her. Jeez. The world, I am convinced, would be a better place without Whitney Robertsons everywhere.

* * *

I fell asleep in English again and the teacher held me after class.

"Look, Christopher, I know you're grieving and all. . . but you have to find an outlet to deal with this. Fall asleep in my class again and I'll have to give you a referral."

I nodded, not really taking in what she had said.

Still, I wandered down to the computer lab. I was a TA there and I could at least find some solitude in that room of glowing computers.(2)

The teacher greeted me warmly.

"Hi, Christopher," he said genially.

I glanced at him and tried a smile.

It came out as a grimace.

"Did you get a haircut?" he continued, not deterred.

I nodded and settled down in front of a computer.

I clicked the mouse.

The _Journeyquest_ site appeared, almost as if by magic.

Did I type that in?

I looked down at my fingers. They were poised on the keyboard.

I couldn't remember if I'd typed it or not. I clicked out of it.

What else was there to do?

I racked my brain for another game that was comparable to _Journeyquest_.

Nothing.

A few jocks walked by the open door.

A tall, brown headed basketball player was talking about _Madden NFL_.

It whizzed through my brain and came up on the screen.

I looked at it in disgust.

I hated sports. All of them. Except maybe ping pong.

_Worth a try, though._

I nodded and started the program.

Worth a try. . .

* * *

It was more of a strategy game than role playing.

But that was okay. I guess.

The teacher waved me out eventually, the last bell ringing loud.

"Bye, Christopher! Have a good weekend."

Oh, right.

It was Friday.

Em's funeral was tomorrow morning.

* * *

(1) This is seriously one of my best friend's mottos. *rolls eyes*

(2) I don't know what TA means. Teacher's Aid, I'm guessing?

_Eh. Anybody actually played Madden NFL? 'Cause I haven't._

_:O_

_So, you know the drill._

_Please review._


	6. The Funeral and The Beginnings of a Plan

_So!_

_:D_

_I hope all of you are well, whatever part of the world you might be. :D_

_So, some sad news: This is **DEFINITELY** the last chapter of Disappear. I'm sorry to spring it on you like this, but I got my copy of Being Nikki early (as in, three days ago. :D) and it gave me several ideas for this (I'll explain that later) and then I wrote the ending for this today during Anatomy so I just had to finish it. :)_

_So, again, my apologies. But it just had to be this way. I screwed this thing up WAY too much because of the limited info on my behalf, but now that I've begun reading this sequel, I've realized the gaping holes in this storyline. So, in essence, I'm saving my own skin before you all can harp at me. XD_

_Speaking of gaping holes in storylines. . ._

**WARNING!!!!!!!!!!!** This last chapter contains spoilers from Being Nikki, the sequel to Airhead. If you don't want to be spoiled, I highly suggest that you read past the first 130 pages of Being Nikki when you get a copy. Then, you can read and review this fic. If you don't mind some spoilers, knock yourself out. But, here's your warning. Be prepared for some spoilers.

_Okay then. :D_

E.I.W.: _You are very right. It is called Runaway. :D Thanks for reviewing._

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LifeOnCrack: _I love your penname. :D Thanks! :)_

DannysGhostWriter: _I understand what you mean with the vagueness. Unfortunately, I write vague pretty often (it's so sad :'[). It's really, really good. :D I do not have a beta reader. :D I'm pretty good with spelling and such, but grammar (as you probably noticed) is my weak point. If you're really interested, send me a PM._

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Meg Cabot Fan: _Thankies!_

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blah: _I'm sorry I don't meet your standards. :(_

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Zaila: _Wait no longer. :D_

Literati Lover: _Well. . ._

Authoress Panda.: _Thank you for your input. I'm glad I'll be ending this. :) I didn't do a very good job with it, I know._

poisonivy231: _I never found these replies painstaking, just tiring 'cause there's so many of you. :D If I review replied each one of you, it'd make me even more tired. But it's pretty much the same concept, so don't mind me. Thank you._

**Disclaimer:** Meg Cabot owns this!

* * *

Six.

I woke up an hour before the funeral.

I showered quickly and matted down my hair with some sort of hair gel I hadn't used in ages.

I dressed in a dark suit that Dad had bought me a year ago.

When I entered the living room, Dad was shrugging on his coat.

He assessed me just to make sure and then clapped me on the shoulder in a it'll-be-all-right way.

He led the way to the car and I followed reluctantly, wondering if it was too late for me to go back to bed.

I really didn't want to do this.

As if answering my though, the doorlock activated, locking us inside for safe departure.

_Damn it._

* * *

The room was almost full when we got there.

We found a seat with difficulty, but we found one, at least.

We were near the back. I could see the backs of Mr. and Mrs. Watts and Frida's heads, all lined up.

I could not see their faces, and I wasn't sure I wanted to.

I looked around at all the people there, almost unaware that Em had this many people who knew her.

The majority of them were family related, having that severely grave expression of one of their numbers being lost.

I saw a few teachers, and several classmates.

The classmates were interesting to watch.

Most of them looked abundantly emotional, some just appearing upset.

I did not know most of their names, which probably meant that Em hadn't known them either.

What bastards.

How dare they do that? At a _funeral_? Where her _parents and sibling and family_ are here?

I wanted to go over there and kick them out.

I really, really did.

But the service had already begun and I didn't want to cause a further nuisance than I had been.

We weren't in a regular funeral parlor, rather, in a crematorium, though not in the room where they burned all the bodies.

A preacher got up from the first pew beside Mr. Watts and went up to the stage, standing in front of a pyre.

Em's body wasn't there; apparently, it was too gory for viewing.

The preacher rambled on about life and death, and how it wasn't so sad after all because God watches over young souls, etc., etc.

The preacher was the only one who spoke. It was a very short service. I assumed the Watts's wouldn't have been prepared to hear other people talk about death today, during their eldest's funeral.

Afterwards, people walked up to the family and gave their condolences.

My father and I were some of the first people to go up and speak with them.

My dad shook Mr. Watts's hand, speaking words of encouragement to him.

I eyed Frida and Mrs. Watts.

The latter was currently talking with an elderly couple, nodding her head a lot and sniffling.

Frida's mouth was parted in astonishment, looking at me like I'd crawled up out of a gutter dressed like a goat.

"Did you cut your hair?" she hissed, her eyes huge.

I absentmindedly touched my short blond hair, as if I'd almost forgotten it existed.

"Oh, yeah," I answered dryly. "I did."

Frida continued to stare.

I ignored her, intending to speak with Mrs. Watts.

The elderly couple eventually turned away, hobbling to the lobby.

I stepped up to her.

"Oh, Christopher," she said, sounding a little startled. "How are you?"

I did not answer her question. I didn't want to lie.

"I was just wondering if you might have a picture of Em, possibly?" I quietly inquired.

"Oh. Um, yes, hold on."

Mrs. Watts moved to her purse, sitting on the first pew, unattended.

She rifled through it several seconds before pulling out a folder containing school pictures.

Mrs. Watts handed me one of the larger pictures, peering down at it with me.

"She looks pretty, doesn't she?" she murmured to where only I could hear.

I studied Em's familiar face, blinking back some tears.

"Yes, she does," I responded truthfully, my throat aching with the strain of holding back so much emotion. "Thank you."

Mrs. Watts nodded and moved to speak to some more people.

My dad appeared at my side minutes later, glancing at the picture over my shoulder.

"Let's go."

I nodded in agreement and followed after him.

* * *

We arrived back home quickly, and I decided to go out and buy a frame for the picture of Em I'd gotten from Mrs. Watts.

When I returned back to the house, I placed it on my bookshelf where it was piled around countless books.

I examined it with its environment, satisfied.

I turned to my computer and it came to life once I jiggled the mouse around.

My cousin Felix immediately appeared on the screen, his black hair sticking up.

"Hey, man. How'd the funeral go?" he said, unnaturally respectful.

I looked him in the eyes and opened my mouth to say the words that would make everything better:

"I want to destroy Stark Enterprises."

Felix's wan mouth spread into a slow smile.

"You got it," he gruffly responded.

I nodded once, serious.

And stealthily, Felix and I began to plan out revenge against Stark.

The revenge that would (hopefully) avenge Em's death.

Because she was worth the risk.

* * *

_Well, this is the end!_

_Ha!_

_What'd you think? :D_

_You guys haven't necessarily gotten rid of me yet, I'm sure once I finish Being Nikki I'll have some one shot pieces floating around in my head._

_:D_

_Thank you for sticking with me for so long, and thanks for all of the feedback!_

_I'll catch you guys later!_

_. . . Review!_

_P.S: If you ever wish to discuss Being Nikki when you finish it, feel free to PM me! I'd love to talk it over with all of you! :D_


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